


Is That a Real Name?

by Ace_Of_Clubs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, First Meetings, M/M, Minor mention of transphobia, Pre-Relationship, Special Guest Star: A very foreshadow-y nightingale, Trans Character, back and forth dialogue, literally just one sentence but still be adviced, they are theater nerds (because of course they are)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 02:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20024869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_Of_Clubs/pseuds/Ace_Of_Clubs
Summary: “Crowley?”“Yup.”“Is that a real name?”





	Is That a Real Name?

**Author's Note:**

> In which I asked myself: but if they were humans, wouldn't those names be a little weird?  
> The question gave me a few ideas, and I wrote this short thing to play around with them a little. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to my friend June for being my beta.

It was going to rain soon.

Two students walked together through the campus’ garden, animatedly discussing _Hamlet_ ’s philosophical subtext. Neither of them knew much about philosophy, but they had just started attending the same extra-curricular drama class, and they were both _very_ opinionated about Shakespeare.

They had never spoken to each other before that day. And it may had stayed that way forever, if their teacher hadn’t randomly partnered them up for an improv exercise. 

They had, at least at first glance, absolutely nothing in common.

One of them wore stylish, tight black clothes, sunglasses –despite the lack of sun-, and a devilish smile. He also had spiky red hair and a small snake tattooed on the side of his face, next to his left ear. He was, by all appearances, _cool_.

The other one wore loose, beige pants and a sweater vest. He had kind eyes and angelic golden curls, and extremely well cared-for hands that fidgeted excitedly as he spoke. He was, by all appearances… not that cool.

Yet, here they were. And for the last thirty minutes they had been so absorbed in conversation, that they suddenly realized they had forgotten to ask each other’s names.

“I’m Crowley,” said the first one.

“ _Crowley_?” said the other, wondering if his new acquaintance was trying to pull his leg.

“Yup.”

“Is that a real name?” 

“Well, I am a real person, and that’s my name, so… Yeah.” 

There was no animosity in Crowley’s voice, but his walking companion still felt chastened.

“I am sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to sound rude. I just- I never met anyone named Crowley before. Is it a family name?”

It wasn’t.

Truth was, ‘Crowley’ wasn’t Crowley’s birth-given name. Crowley’s birth-given name was Jennifer.

It was an understandable mistake, honestly. Crowley had only been an infant at the time, he didn’t have the means to explain to his mother that he wasn’t a girl. It had taken him fifteen years to acquire the necessary verbal skills, self-consciousness and courage to tell her the truth.

And then she had kicked him out of the house.

About a year later, he had changed his name to Crowley. He had accidentally stumbled upon it online; apparently, it had belonged to a famous occultist from the early twentieth century. He had liked it because it sounded like ‘crow’, and also because it would have driven his mother _insane_ , if she had known.

But Crowley didn’t say any of that out loud.

“Nah,” he said instead, and quickly added, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Your name,” Crowley said, smiling. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. My name is Aziraphale.”

“Azi- _what_?”

“Azi _raphale_ ,” repeated Aziraphale, slower this time.

“And you were giving _me_ crap about ‘Crowley’?”

Aziraphale blushed.

“I wasn’t giving you- I just meant- _Besides_ , it’s a biblical name.”

“For real?” 

“Yes! It’s the name of an angel. My family is a little religious, you see…”

Saying that Aziraphale’s family was ‘a little’ religious was like saying that _The Sound of Music_ was ‘a little’ long. Or that Adolf Hitler was ‘a little’ racist.

Aziraphale’s father was a bishop of the Church in Wales. His mother was a theology professor.  
The two had met at a Conference in Cardiff in 1981. They had gone out for coffee a couple of times, properly waited until their wedding night, and then proceeded to have eleven children through the course of the following twenty years, each one named after an angel from the Bible. 

Aziraphale was the ninth out of eleven, and by the time he was born his parents had either run out of conventional names, or they had somehow developed a mischievous sense of humor. This last hypothesis was implausible.

Still, Aziraphale thought he had been luckier than his younger brother, _Sandalphon_.

But Aziraphale didn’t say any of that out loud. 

For a while, silence stretched between the two. Somewhere in the garden, a nightingale started singing.

Eventually, and quite out of nowhere, Crowley chuckled. It didn’t sound mean, and it definitely didn’t sound like he was laughing _of_ him, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile, too; that had been, after all, a rather unusual exchange. It was the first time either of them met someone with a name as strange as their own.

(It would not be the last, however, for in just a few weeks they would make the acquaintance of a certain _Anathema Device_ ).

A thunder shook the air. A few moments later, in true British fashion, it started pouring.

“Ah, _shit_!” cursed Crowley, raising the back of his jacket to cover his head. “I don’t have my-“

But Aziraphale was already taking an umbrella out of his bag, and proceeded to shield them both. It was a little awkward, since it wasn’t a large umbrella, and they had to get really close to each other, while still managing to get a little wet.

As they started running towards the dorms, though, neither of them seemed to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever started talking with a stranger about some random thing, and after an hour you're still talking, and you suddenly realize you don't even know what their name is?  
> It happened to me a few times, and that's how I made some great friends.
> 
> This was supposed to be a single, really short one-shot, but as I wrote that hint of their backstories I fell in love a little with these human Aziraphale and Crowley... So maybe there are going to be other really short one-shots after this one, who knows. I am overthinking and already projecting my own issues on them, so this may turn into some very self-indulgent character study about making friends, family, and coming to terms with your sexuality. We'll see what happens.


End file.
